Paris
by Syblime
Summary: Set in 1921 the family take a holiday in France. Sybil and Edith end up going to the French Grand Prix at Le Mans.  Quite a lot of Sybil/Branson
1. Chapter 1

1921.

Cora sat up in bed. She wanted to get away. She felt as if she had been cooped up at Downton for the whole war. They had all gone to London for the season in 1915, but it was most unproductive, with all the young men away. They had decided that it was not worth bothering about. The rest of the time she had spent at home. Robert had been helping to train new recruits so he was often out. The girls, she knew, could do with a break. Mary and Edith had been fretting over Matthew and Sir Anthony, and Sybil had thrown herself into helping the nurses downstairs. Robert had allowed his home to be used as a hospital and had generously allowed it to remain so after the war to help soldiers recuperate. They would be leaving this summer and Cora would prefer not to be the one to sort everything out.

Also things had calmed down regarding staff. At one point Carson and Branson had been the only men around the house! Bates was still helping his Lordship, so he went to the training camps with him. Everyone else had signed up. Thomas had been killed during the battle of Passchendale, so he was not coming back. William had returned but was severely shaken by the experience. Branson had not gone due to his political ideas. He had stood his ground and been a great help to the family, Cora thought. He was probably in need of a holiday too. He had added the duties of Footman to those of Chauffeur and was often seen scampering around the house trying to do everything. To start with he kept getting lost in the house and Carson often moaned at him for incorrect dress (he was still wearing his chauffeur's uniform, minus the jacket) and odd things like presentation of cutlery. His incompetence had become a private joke between him and Sybil, so he took to placing her cutlery upside down, in the wrong order or at squiffy angles. The whole family, at one point or another, wondered why Sybil grinned every time she sat down at the table, or why her fork was the wrong way up.

Cora had a determined smile on her face when her husband walked in. Robert took notice of this and purposely didn't say anything until he had crossed the room and climbed in beside her. "What is it?"

"Darling, I was thinking we should all go on holiday. It's been far too long and I think the girls would like a break."

Robert rolled his eyes; he knew she was plotting something. "Where would we go?"

"Rome maybe? We were going to go there anyway, but the war broke out. Or Paris? We could stay at Rosamund's apartment."

"Abroad? I don't think so."

"Why not?" Cora retorted with equal annoyance. "The Skelton's went over for Christmas in 1919. Surely in 1921, we will be fine."

"Cora. I don't want to, besides, we've got staff interviews to worry about, the hospital to move out, not to mention Mary and Matthew's wedding!"

"We could get that sorted out over there. I bet she'd love a Paris gown."

"No."

"Well, why don't I take the girls and go shopping. You can stay here." A new idea struck her, "We could even take the car!"

"Cora"

"Let's at least ask Mary."

Robert sighed. "Ok. We shall ask Mary." He blew the candle out and snuggled down. "Cora" he suddenly questioned

"Yes"

"When on earth did we decide we were going to Rome?"

To her father's dismay, Mary had been delighted at the prospect of a Paris gown. She too had felt confined at Downton. Branson had also been consulted and assigned to accompany them. His work would be more or less the same with the addition of entertaining Sybil, who had come flying through the door whilst Cora had been talking to Branson. Sybil skidded to a halt when she saw them but it was enough for Cora to despair of what her youngest would be like by the third dress shop. Sybil had thrown him a mischievous grin at the prospect of being 'entertained'. The only person who moaned was Edith. Over dinner one evening she chimed up "Why do we have to go to Paris?" The emphasis on the last word was twinged with disgust.

"Where do you want to go, darling?" Cora asked with no intent of changing their plans.

"Somewhere different, like Amsterdam"

"Why?" Mary joined in, "What's the attraction? Paris has _so_ much more to offer."

"But Amsterdam is now very popular with people like ourselves."

"Oh, Edith," Sybil was trying hard not to giggle, "just because Sir Anthony was there last week doesn't mean he will still be there in July."

Edith glared at her. She had forgotten that she had told Sybil about Sir Anthony being there.

"Let's hope he is, for that way he will not bore us in Paris." Mary retorted.

"Maybe another time, dear." Cora tried to keep the peace between the two of them, but got a reprimanding glare from Robert to inform her that there will not be a Next Time.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry, got a bit sidetracked! Also I haven't done French for a while so it may not be perfect.__ Thanks to bijou156 and This Is. for reviews._

Branson was certainly looking forward to going. He had been slightly jealous of William and the others because they had been abroad and he had not. Now his chance had come and it was for much more pleasant reasons than war. In preparation he had found a 'teach yourself French' book in the Downton Library, which he read in his spare time. He had been reading it and muttering discontentedly to himself whilst waiting for Sybil who was having another dress made for their holiday.

"Oh dear, is it that bad?" Branson jumped and snapped the book shut upon hearing her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you jump."

"That's alright" Branson held the door open, "and yes, it really is that bad!" He shut the door behind her and climbed into the front, discarding the book next to him. "So how was the fitting?"

"It went very well." Branson noticed a small grin flickering across her face.

"More trousers?" he asked light-heartedly.

"No, not this time," She laughed "but I doubt mama would be fully supportive of my choice." she sat forward, her hand snaking into the front of the car to retrieve the discarded book. "French!" she exclaimed with slight disbelief. The car swerved as he turned in his seat to see her holding the book.

"Um, yes." He replied having regained control of the car.

"Did you not learn it at school?" she asked

"I started to, but I hated the teacher so I never got very far." He met her eyes in the mirror.

"So what you need," she said suggestively "is a better teacher. I'll test you now." She promptly flicked open the book and started reeling off words in perfect French. He gave her the English equivalent. As they drove through the Downton gates she gently closed the book. "Good!" she said triumphantly "If I test you everyday, you will soon parle le français parfait." He helped her down from the car. "Merci, mon amie."

She kept her word. Everyday Branson found himself being tested at French. She was very inventive. On one occasion she was with her mother and sisters in the car. She enthusiastically announced that they should all practice their French, so no English for the rest of the journey. Reluctantly her sisters agreed, and the rest of the time was a lot quieter than normal. Sybil included Branson in this by asking him various questions-his test for the day.

One evening before they left Branson was sitting reading a magazine. He had bought himself a selection which he could read whilst the ladies were busy in Paris, but he had started one now. He was disturbed from his reading by a knock at the door. He reluctantly walked towards the door of his little cottage. Without opening it he asked; "Who is it?"

"It's Sybil. I haven't tested you."

"Sybil! You shouldn't be here! Go back to the house!"

"Please. It's freezing out here."

Her determination would mean she would be standing there all night if he didn't let her in now. He quickly opened the door.

"Where's the book? I assume you were reading it just now." She walked into the room. She raised an eyebrow, disproving of his motoring magazine before pushing it off the sofa and reaching for the French book which was neatly stacked on the small cabinet beside her.

"So is this what you call a better teacher?" he asked playfully as he rescued his magazine.

"Well, I should hope you don't dislike me. Anyway, our old governess used to pop up at all hours and demand that we speak French. It must have worked to some degree." She sat down. "Or maybe it was because she bribed us with cocoa."

"Would you like a drink?"

"Ask me in French and I will."

He rolled his eyes, "Chocolat chaud ou du thé?"

She laughed; his Irish accent mixed with a foreign language was divine. "Un Chocolat chaud, s'il te plait."

"Don't have any of that, or any coffee. I can't even offer you a beer! There might be a spot of whiskey 'round here somewhere, but I can't say that in French. Would you like a cup of tea?" he rephrased his original question.

"En Français!" she scolded. "Alright, I'll have tea."

When he returned with the steaming mugs, Sybil was sitting with her knees tucked up to her chest. As he handed her the cup their fingers brushed. "Bloody hell, you're cold!" she giggled nervously at his outburst. He put his own cup on the table. "Shall I get your coat?"

"No, really it's fine. I've got tea now."

"Well, can I get you a blanket then?"

"No." She finished her tea. "I'd better get back. Anna might be looking for me." he helped her put her coat on, before they bid each other a good night and he watched her glide across the yard and back into the house.


	3. Chapter 3

As the final preparations got underway for the trip, things became pretty hectic. Robert practically locked himself in his library as excited squeals and lost hats became more frequent. He thought his daughters had grown up over the last few years, but they were behaving as if they were ten year olds again. Staff were scurrying around trying to find the array of items that were missing. Anna and Miss O'Brien had the double task of packing for themselves as well as for Lady Grantham and the girls. Mrs Patmore was busily baking an assortment of treats for the journey. The ladies were going by train, breaking the journey in London, then going on to Dover to catch the ferry. Branson would follow them in the car.

They boarded the ferry in the evening, settled into their compartments and dined. After dinner Mary and Edith both made their excuses and hurriedly returned to their cabins. Anna went with them. Miss O'Brien had never reappeared after dinner. Cora, Sybil and Branson stood on the deck watching the waves roll past. They stayed there for some time before Branson broke the silence.

"Your Ladyship, I was wondering if I could have a day off while we are in France."

Cora smiled at him "May I ask why?"

"Well, there's something I've wanted to go to since I was little. The date this year happens to coincide with your holiday. I would have asked you sooner, but I only saw the article when I was waiting for you at the station."

"Is it a particular day then, Branson?"

"Yes, your Ladyship. The 25th."

"I'll see what I can do." He nodded gratefully to her before looking back at the water.

They returned to silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Sybil wrinkled her nose, trying to remember what he had been reading earlier. She gave up trying and instead began to wish that her mother had not been there so she could have asked him more about it. If it had been any other young man stood there she was sure her mother would have made some excuse to leave them alone together. That started her worrying about other reasons her mother had for bringing them, apart from Mary's wedding. She was 25 and had shown no interest in getting married. True Mary was older than her but now she was settled Sybil might receive more unwanted attention. She sighed into the darkness.

Branson was thinking about previous journeys he had made on ferries. There were not many. The first time was when the whole of his family had travelled from Ireland to England for his sister's wedding. It had been the first time he had been abroad. He had been very excitable and, looking back, probably very annoying to everyone around him. The wedding had been enchanting although everything sounded strange to a little Irish boy. He didn't remember the ferry back; he had slept most of the way according to his parents. The only other time was when he left Ireland for Downton.

Cora, on the other hand, had been a regular sailor. After she had met Robert she seemed to spend more time on various ships than she did on dry land. To start with these trips had been new and exciting. Soon they had become a chore, trying to prevent her own mother from invading Downton too often. She enjoyed the swell of the waves. As a young girl she had often gone sailing in New York. She smiled at the happy memories. Then she turned her attention back to her daughters. Sybil, she noticed, had a slight frown plaguing her features and the other two had gone inside.

"Sybil, darling, are you feeling alright?"

"Quite, mama." Her short answer was rather uncharacteristic.

"I was going to go and check on your sisters. Would you prefer me to stay?"

"No, mama, I'm fine. Please go if you want."

Cora walked down the corridors which led to their compartments. She tapped gently on Mary's door and went in. Her eldest was sitting on the edge of her bed, whilst Anna brushed her hair. Mary was very pale. Her usual demeanour shattered by seasickness.

"Mary, dear, are you okay?" Cora was met by a reproaching glare. "Anna, how are you? I hope you are not in the same predicament as Mary."

"No, your Ladyship. I'm perfectly well. Thank you." Anna tied a piece of ribbon around Mary's dark locks. "Was there anything you wanted, your ladyship?"

"No, thank you." Cora sat next to her daughter on the bed and smiled at Anna, who left to give them both some privacy. It might have been the three of them together again or simply curiosity that prompted Cora's next question to Mary. "Did you ever tell Matthew, about...?" The shock was evident in Mary's eyes as she looked at her mother, before trailing her eyes to the floor.

"Kemal. Yes." Mary nodded slightly. "When he came back, and proposed again, I told him. I had to. I refused him before because I couldn't tell him, not because of the...current situation. I couldn't lose him again."

"How did he take it?" Cora encouraged her daughter.

"He said he wasn't surprised. He was just glad I could finally tell him the truth." She sighed, remembering the whole encounter.

Cora left Mary to her thoughts and knocked on the next door. There was no answer. She knocked again. "Edith?"

She heard the door being unlocked and then opened. Cora had expected Edith to be in a similar state to Mary. Instead Edith looked completely unaffected by the sea; her dress was neat as was her hair. However her eyes were obviously red from crying.

"Mama," she said shakily.

Cora pulled her into a hug. Edith was slightly taken aback by this and another sob escaped her.

"Hush," Cora tried to comfort her daughter "could you tell me what's wrong."

"Patrick." Edith muttered. More tears escaped her.

Cora knew Edith was one for storing her emotions but that shocked her. "But that was almost ten years ago!"

Edith pulled violently out of her mother's arms and turned to face the window. "But, to think that he… he's down there, somewhere. Oh mama, it's horrible!" Cora had nothing to say to that. She stood there a few moments more, when Anna came in.

"Sorry, your Ladyship. I was going to ask if Lady Edith wanted me to do anything."

"Anna, before you attend to Lady Edith, could you possibly run down and tell O'Brien that I've gone to my Cabin."

"Yes, milady." She quickly left the room. Cora turned around again to find that Edith was once again facing her. The expression on her daughter's face was enough to know she was no longer welcome.

"Goodnight, darling." With that Cora left the room, and found her own compartment. Within a few minutes Anna was knocking on Lady Grantham's door. "Come in."

"Your Ladyship," Anna curtseyed "Miss O'Brien, I'm afraid, is in a worse state than Lady Mary. I can help you now, Lady Edith said she would rather read for a while and I haven't yet seen Lady Sybil."

"Thank you Anna. When you do see her, can you bid her a goodnight from me?"

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><p><em>Sorry this took so long in coming! Please review.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_I'll warn you now, there is a Lot of Sybil/Branson, not a lot else!_

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><p>As soon as her mother had gone Sybil sidled up to Branson, who was still staring at the water.<p>

"At some fascinating political meeting?" she asked him, glad to be alone.

He smiled out into the darkness, "no, I'd gone home." He turned to look at the girl standing beside him. She shifted uncomfortably; she hadn't meant to distract him from anything quite so personal.

"Do you miss it?" her tone was a little more serious.

"Sometimes," he shrugged "why?"

She shook her head. "No reason." She paused. "Tell me about it." He obliged. His voice was animated as he spoke of the fond memories. They chatted for some time before Anna appeared.

"Her Ladyship said to say goodnight, milady. Will you be needing me now? Lady Mary and Lady Edith have already retired for the night."

"Oh, Anna, not yet, surely?"

"Milady, it's almost eleven o'clock and we've all got an early start in the morning." Sybil could hear that Anna was more than a little anxious to get some sleep herself.

"Okay, I'll undress myself. You get some sleep; I'd prefer to stay here a little longer."

"But…"

"Anna, I can manage." Sybil tried to reassure her.

"Yes milady, of course. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Anna." Sybil turned back to Branson.

"I don't get the option of getting some sleep then?" He smirked at her.

"Did you want to?"

"Not really. It's quite pleasant out here." He added.

"Tom? Where are you skiving off to on the 25th, if you don't mind my asking?"

He laughed at that. "Oh, Sybil, you wouldn't approve!"

"Why not?" she said indignantly.

"Well, when you came to my cottage to teach me French, you did not like my choice of reading material. I noticed earlier, in the very magazine you discarded, an article for the first Grand prix since 1914. When I was little I use to dream about going to one. Now I'm just a few miles away. There is no chance I'm missing that opportunity!"

She laughed. "Oh, Tom," she leant in so that her forehead was resting on his shoulder. "I only disapprove when you are meant to be learning French." She pulled back again. "A grand prix is car racing, am I right?"

"Yes, yes it is." He draped his arm around her shoulders. They stood together in the night air.

"Have you ever driven in one?"

"What, a grand prix?"

"Yes."

"I wish!" he paused for a while. "Sybil, to drive in these races takes a lot of time, effort and money. Not to mention a car!"

"You could use one of our cars."

"Do you honestly think that your father would let me borrow, and potentially destroy one of his cars?"

"Hmm, maybe not!" She paused. "Tom?"

"Yes"

"Will you help me with this infernal hoard of pins?" He raised an eyebrow at her suggestion, but followed her into the main body of the ship, after glancing around to make sure no-one observed them. The war had helped to relax certain protocol but some rules were still firmly in place. Once they were in her cabin and the door was closed she sighed.

"I wish I could just drag you down here in broad daylight and for nobody to give two straws." He laughed at her simple way of explaining their complicated situation.

"Yes, I wish that too."

She stood contemplating the idea, then seemed to shake herself out of it. "Anyway, you're here to help with my hair." She started pulling the pins out. Tom came to stand behind her, he gently copied her action. A lone curl tumbled down her back having been released from its hold. His fingers followed the trail from the back of her head to her neck.

"Oh, Tom." She sighed at his touch. He now had both hands on her shoulders and was placing kisses on her neck. She spun around and pressed their lips together. His hands played in her hair, as hers were roaming his torso. They had grown closer during the war but nothing much had happened between them, however much they both wanted it to. Any moments they had together were treasured.

The next day Anna had a hard job of waking Lady Sybil and had an even harder job of trying to dislodge a lot of hairpins from her tangled hair. At least once they were off the ferry; Sybil could rest on the train to Paris. Branson had a harder job trying to stay awake whilst driving.

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><p><em>Please please Please review. Any comments welcome :)<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_I should have explained this when i started writing this story; I am a massive fan of Formula 1 and when I went to Highclere Castle I read that the 5th Earl had gone to the 1907 Grand Prix. It got me thinking! Especially about a certain Irish Chauffeur, who might want to go to a race. The whole story will, most likely be based on that from now on. If no-one reads it I do understand, but i've had such fun researching this (Wikipedia was very helpful) that i'm going to post it anyway. I hope you do read and enjoy it. :)_

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><p>Cora slumped into a chair in Rosamund's apartment. The first few days in Paris had been rather hectic. They had arrived Wednesday evening, so most of Thursday had been spent unpacking and arranging everything. Yesterday Branson had driven them into the centre of town to go sightseeing. At Sybil's insistence Branson enjoyed a fair share of this as well. Today had been spent in a similar fashion, with Mary acknowledging various dress shops that she wanted to visit. They had returned to the apartment to change before going out for dinner. Edith and Mary were upstairs but could be heard arguing. Sybil was sat in a chair opposite, reading. She looked up as the argument got louder.<p>

"Perhaps Anna has finished with them." Sybil, being the youngest was used to changing last.

Cora sniggered. "Perhaps Anna needs rescuing! There's no way they are both ready yet." Sybil sighed uneasily. She hated it when her sisters argued. She found where she had got to on the page and continued reading. A few minutes later Mary stormed down the stairs and into their tranquillity.

"She is impossible!" she said, pointing vaguely in the direction she had come from.

Having not really listened to Mary's side of the argument Sybil excused herself and went upstairs. An Idea was forming in her head as she dressed and continued to develop while they were having dinner. Later on she put the idea to her mother.

"Mama, you know Branson is going to the car racing. Well I wondered if I could go with him."

"I see, and leave me with your sisters squabbling all day."

"No! I was thinking of taking Edith. It will be easier for you and Mary, and us too in the long run. You know what Mary is like; if she saw any bridesmaid dresses, and we said we didn't like them she would pick them just to upset Edith. Anyway, with the racing, I thought it would be easier to leave tomorrow and stay in a hotel or something a bit closer. That way we wouldn't have to get up so early. Branson was a bit worried about how long it would take to get from here to Le Mans."

"Darling, all the hotels might already be full. I understand that some people travel from around the world to race at these things. I suppose Branson might know, you'd better go and ask him."

"Okay! I was going to ask him if he minds us going anyway." She said nonchalantly as she walked to the door.

"Sybil! Wait! Haven't you asked him yet?" Her mother said disapprovingly. "I guess this means you haven't asked Edith either. You will need to ask her tonight if you are planning on leaving tomorrow."

"Yes Mama." She sped along the corridor and into Edith's room. Her sister was sitting in bed reading.

"Heavens, Sybil, what is it?"

"Would you like to come to Le Mans tomorrow, if I can persuade Branson to take us? We'll make a grand few days of it and be spared Mary's initial torment of looking at dresses." Her last comment pleased Edith.

"Alright."

"Good! I'll ask Tom and pop back in a bit." She disappeared again down the corridor and flounced into the servants quarters. Anna was sitting at the little table. "Oh, Anna," she said breathlessly "have you..."She stopped "you've been waiting for me again, haven't you? I'm so sorry. I just need to talk to Branson, and then I am going to bed."

"Yes milady."

"Oh, and I need to talk to Edith, but I can do that in my nightdress. Do you know where Tom is?" Anna walked to one of the doors which led off from the main room.

"Tom, are ye there?" she called quietly so as not to disturb Miss O'Brien. Sure enough he appeared in the doorway. Anna paused for a moment-she felt she ought to play chaperone, but instead she walked to the other door. "I'll wait for you upstairs, Milady."

"Thank you Anna." Sybil put her plan to Tom, hoping he wouldn't mind too much giving up his day off. He didn't. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before flying back up the stairs.

The following day Branson drove Lady Sybil and Lady Edith west. Edith was beginning to wonder what she had let herself in for. Sybil was eagerly sitting forward in her seat, chatting to Branson.

"So, where are we actually going?" Edith had been told to pack for a couple of days, but little more.

"I've told you. Le Mans." Sybil replied as if it were all self explanatory.

"It's the French Grand prix, Milady." Branson added.

"What's that?" Edith asked curtly.

"Car racing! Oh Edith, even I knew that." Sybil exclaimed. Branson chuckled. "What?"

"You didn't really know. You had to ask me."

"Shut up." Sybil playfully hit Branson on the arm. "So, how many drivers will there be?" He laughed again.

"I think you should have confiscated my chosen reading material and read it yourself." He wasn't going to let her forget about his magazine. "Apparently there are nearly twenty signed up, but I doubt they will all attend."

"Why not? It sounds like a big deal to race."

"It is, but sometimes the cars aren't ready and so on. I've heard that there's been some trouble with the fiats, so they probably won't run. That would mean that we are two down already."


	6. Chapter 6

They managed to find three rooms in a small hotel, not far from the Le Mans circuit. There was a small terrace where guests could sit, and it was where they had arranged to meet for the evening.

"It's so unfair still. I mean mama can vote, Mary can vote, Anna can, even Miss O'Brien can. It's only me and you, Edith, who can't, and I was the only one who was active for the cause!" Something had started Sybil off about the vote.

"By getting your head smashed in?" Edith said in an attempt at humour.

"Most women who joined the war effort are in the same predicament as me, and it was because of them that women got the vote at all."

"If you are that desperate, get married." Edith said unhelpfully. Sybil's eyes flicked nervously to the chauffeur sitting beside her. "Or move abroad, where they can vote."

"The other problem is that it benefits upper class women more than others." Sybil proceeded with her argument.

"What is wrong with that?" Edith received a furious glance from her sister.

"Because, Edith, it means that a lot of women, who fought for their rights, haven't fully got them because of something as trivial as money."

Edith snorted. "Trivial. Sybil Crawley I think you need reminding of who you are!" Sybil had no response so merely glared at her sister.

"Just be thankful that women got the vote at all." Branson tried to get some diplomacy between the sisters. "They don't here in France. Now can I get either of you a drink?" He returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. They sat in a strained silence watching the sun go down.

"I'm going up now." Edith announced. Branson stood up as she went back inside and up the stairs.

"So, who do you want to win tomorrow?" Sybil asked as he sat back down.

"I'll have to see who turns up, but the Irish fella, if he's still racing."

~X~

The next morning Sybil dressed herself in Madame Swann's latest creation and knocked on Edith's door.

"Edith, are you ready? I'm hungry!" There was a slight squeak from the other side of the door before Sybil was ushered inside.

"How do you dress yourself so quickly?" her sister demanded. "Oh, Sybil, help me with this blasted corset." After some time the pair made their way downstairs. Branson had already eaten and was pacing about in the hotel reception. He stopped dead at the sight of Sybil. Her dress was light blue, with a white collar and short sleeves. She was wearing a plain set of white beads and blue heeled shoes, but the dress itself only just covered her knees! Branson was aware that higher hemlines were fashionable, with fewer male staff the conversation often turned to the latest fashions, but compared to most dresses which were ankle length it was quite something.

"Wow, Sybil!" Edith frowned at his address to her sister. Sybil jumped off the last step and twirled about.

"Well, do you like it?"

"God, yes." Before he could think "I mean, it's… you look amazing." Edith suddenly saw why the chauffeur was gawping at her sister.

"Sybil! What _are_ you wearing?"

"Something that allows me to change a lot faster than you do, now come on." She pulled her sister into the dinning room.

~x~

They drove the short distance to the circuit. Luckily for Branson it was a short distance, because it was taking a lot of effort to keep his eyes on the road, and away from Sybil's legs. It was quite busy when they arrived and the atmosphere was already buzzing with excitement. As Sybil stepped out of the car she was hit by the smells of petrol and burning rubber, mixed with candyfloss from a number of stalls selling refreshments. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes and inhaled it all. The sun on her skin added to the moment. Today was about freedom.

"I don't know what you're looking so happy about." Edith's piercing voice broke the spell. Sybil looked at her sister.

"Oh, Edith aren't you just a bit excited?" she asked whilst taking in their surroundings. Suddenly she linked arms with Edith, "Come on, we're getting left behind." And she started off in the direction that the chauffeur had taken, practically dragging Edith after her. Branson looked round as he heard their footsteps, and grinned at the sisters. Sybil slowed her pace and Edith immediately pulled her arm away.

"Sybil, was it necessary to go quite so fast? You are not the one racing, remember." Edith panted. Sybil looked indignantly at her sister before turning to Branson.

"I'm not the only one speeding, around here. I'll have to keep a hold of you to prevent you from running off again." This time she linked arms with Branson. He looked down in surprise at the contact, before smiling. Here no-one knew of their respective roles of Lady and servant, and there was no way he would object to having a beautiful girl on his arm for the day.

"Sybil!" Edith exclaimed in horror, for the second time that day. "You are going to get us a bad reputation in France as well."

"What do you mean, 'as well'?" Edith made no further comment. "Link on if it bothers you that much." Sybil offered. From then on Edith walked a little way behind her companions, as if they were completely unconnected.

They made their way through the various stalls selling ladies hats, racing memorabilia and other trinkets and walked straight into the heart of it all. Mechanics dashed from car to car, engines were started up, tested, and shut off again and through this hubbub walked men in racing overalls, drivers, mechanics, distinctive sponsors and cheering fans.

"Oh, Tom, isn't it just the cat's pyjamas!" Sybil exclaimed. He looked at her quizzically for a second.

"I keep forgetting that you're half American. What does that mean?"

"It means it's fabulous, Tom, I love it. Thank you for bringing me." She squeezed his arm affectionately.

"My dear little flapper, you haven't even seen the race yet!"

"I thought I was your suffragette." She grinned at him as they walked on.


End file.
